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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351544">How do you sleep?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror/pseuds/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror'>Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Descriptions Of Overdose, Drug Use, Endeavour Morse Needs a Hug, Endeavour Morse Whump, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mentions of Suicide, Overdosing, Protective Fred Thursday, Seizures, Sorry Not Sorry, The Thursdays Adopt Endeavour Morse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:47:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror/pseuds/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Morse just wanted to rid the darkness that seemed to follow him since he was released from jail. Even just for a while. And if what the waiter was offering even had a chance of that he'd take it.<br/>Little does he know Fred Thursday was en route to the party.</p><p> </p><p>Alternative - Morse accidentally overdoses at Bixbys party. Fred is far from happy</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lose Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Maybe dont read if drug use / descriptions of overdosing affects you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was nice to know Thursday was alive, Morse thought as he strolled to Bixby's place for yet another late evening party where Morse was sure to know no one. It still hurt though. Knowing no one spared him the thought to tell him Thursday survived Morse’s mistakes. It hurt that no one wrote to him. It hurt that no one came to get him when he was released.</p><p>Not that he’d know what to say if they had. in a way he was glad he avoided the awkward conversations with Jakes or Strange after they refused to go with him to Blenheim Vale. He suspected he’d have received a skittish apology consisting of no eye contact and a sympathetic pat on the back. That’s not what Morse wanted or needed.</p><p>He took his usual short cut through the woods to get there. He didn’t care much for not having a car, it meant more time out of the cabin. A constant reminder of his failed life. The darkness that seemed to constantly envelope him out here in the woods was often overwhelming. It made his thoughts run frantically away with him.</p><p>Deep down he knew how terribly he missed Oxford and all that entailed his former life, but he couldn’t go back. Not now.</p><p>He strides up the stairs leading to the grand entrance of Bixby's estate, immediately finding the man welcoming guests in the hallway.</p><p>"Morse!" Bixby greeted him with a clap on the shoulder as he guided him to the bar in the main room.</p><p>"Quite the party." Morse says taking it all in. There were dancers in every corner, displayed on podiums and lit up theatrically. The room was flooded with people, all wearing elaborate masks, covering their true selves more so than usual. Morse knew all too well that people in these settings often carried their own deep secrets. Morse was no different.</p><p>Bixby hands him a rather large whiskey and god did Morse need it.</p><p>Seeing Thursday brought everything back to him, the horrid cases, prison. Prison. Morse swallows. Prison wasn’t the place for coppers who'd put half of the inmates there. For a month he hardly slept, in fear every time he closed his eyes and let his guard down, the cell door would open, and more inmates would be allowed revenge. It’d only happened a few times. One time it was the guards themselves, apparently they didn’t much care for the way he spoke to them. That time almost landed him in the infirmary, but it felt the guards had practiced how to inflict enough superficial injuries without having to involve a doctor. His nose never quite set properly though.</p><p>Morse quickly gulped the whiskey down.</p><p>"Morse, this is Harry Rose. Harry, Morse." Bixby says, allowing the men to shake hands in acquaintance. He could hardly hear a word Bixby said over the bands loud music.</p><p>"Make sure this old man has a good night, alright?" He says to Rose, giving Morse one last clap on the back before going to mingle with other guests.</p><p>A few whiskeys in Morse found himself wandering around the party, accepting glass after glass of champagne on offer. Hell, Morse couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so drunk. It must have been before-</p><p>Morse stops his own thoughts. All of a sudden, he’s overwhelmed with emotion from the constant shit life had dealt him. He looked up from his empty glass to find a waiter was in front of him. "Sir?" The tall man says, offering his tray of suspicious looking white packages, neatly wrapped in a string bow.</p><p>The policeman in Morse screamed at him. But before he could react to his inner conscience, he takes a bag unceremoniously from the tray and smiled at the man. He’s not a police officer. Not anymore, and maybe this would help him erase that.</p><p>Hell, he didn’t know what to do with this stuff sober, let alone half cut. He carelessly pours the substance onto the back of his hand, in a straight a line as he could fathom and raised it to his nose.</p><p> Morse breathed in deeply, eyes widening at the instant euphoria.</p><p>Suddenly Morse was light, carefree, outgoing, confident. If not slightly uncoordinated.</p><p>He took a girl, that seemed to be giving him the eye for a while, by the waist to dance. Drunkenly kissing her neck as they swayed. He brushed her off soon enough with a sudden desire to piss.</p><p>Stumbling to the bathroom he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. His mask lost somewhere and his bow tie askew. He laughed to himself, laughed at what past him would have thought of this. He didn’t care though. Not anymore.</p><p>Coming out the lavatory he went for the door because god when did it get so hot? Why is he seeing double? Wait. Triple?</p><p>He somehow manages to stagger outside, leaning heavily against a wall.</p><p>"Oi." A rather built, angry looking man says coming straight towards Morse. Or were there two men? Morse squinted, willing his eyes to focus on the scene in front of him.</p><p>"That was my wife" is the last thing Morse registers before a strong right hook crashed into his face, sending him tumbling.</p><p> Morse was vaguely aware of the man kicking him, but Morse smiled. God, why hadn’t he done this before?</p><p>He was vaguely aware of shouting and the low thrumming beat of the party. The dark sky seemed more beautiful than usual.</p><p>All of a sudden, the kicking stopped, and warm hands covered his face. </p><p>Again, he smiled, unable to focus on whatever figure hovered over him. He thinks he can see the man’s lips moving but he can’t really hear him. Morse closed his eyes trying to sink deeper into the euphoria he made for himself.</p><p>A hard smack stopped him, eyes snapping open. "Endeavour!" The man says.</p><p>Shit he knows that voice. He couldn’t place it at all though, not that he was really trying to. "What the bloody hell have you taken?" The man’s shaking his shoulders now.</p><p>Whys the guy so angry? He thinks he preferred the other guy kicking him. At least he'd leave him to gaze at the stars.</p><p>A hand moves from his shoulder and all of a sudden, he has fingers in his mouth. He frowns at the intrusion before abruptly emptying his stomach by his side.</p><p>He thinks he can hear people talking. A muffled beat of music in the background.</p><p>Morse smiles, letting the drugs and whiskey slip him away from consciousness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Are we having any fun yet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fred turns up to the party and finds more than he bargains for.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fred Thursday was meant to be home with his family right now. Damn this job. After turning over the contents of the handbag, Bright had instructed him to find out how the woman had come to be in possession of a gambling chip belonging to Joss Bixby as soon as possible.</p><p>Begrudgingly he drove the jag to this Joss Bixby’s estate where he'd apparently find him this evening.</p><p>Thursday couldn’t think of anything worse than a posh gits party with alcohol and performers and god knows what else they do to keep themselves entertained. He looks over to the empty passenger seat , where he should be sat, listening to another unbelievable idea that had come to Morse. But Morse wasn’t here, and the boy had made it very clear he didn’t want to be.</p><p> He couldn’t understand why Morse was so set in not coming back. They’d flushed out the corruption that put him behind bars, he’d been released and cleared of all charges. Everyone wanted him back, even Bright, although he seldom allowed himself to show it. Fred couldn’t help but feel Morse was being childish about the situation.</p><p>Pulling up at the top of the long driveway he sees a commotion on the entrance stairs. By commotion, it was more one lad is getting his arse handed to him by the other. Fred shakes his head, swiftly getting out of the driver’s side. So, this is how the mighty get their kicks is it?</p><p>Thursday strides over, badge at the ready. "Police! What do you think you’re-" Fred’s words failed him.</p><p>Below him, curled in a protective bowl with tawny hair skewed everywhere, was Morse.</p><p>He drops to his knees beside his bagman (yes, he's still his bagman dammit, even if he does refuse to acknowledge it) "Morse?" He says lightly putting his hands on Morse’s bloody face.</p><p>Morse's eyes were unfocused and all together dull. "Morse?" He repeats, but it’s as if Morse hadn’t even noticed his presence. The boy was delirious.</p><p>Morse smiled. Fred couldn’t tell if it was because he recognised him or if it was just because he was completely off his face. He could see Morse’s eyes start to roll to the back of his head.</p><p>"Shit, Endeavour!" He bellows, slapping Morse to consciousness.</p><p>The boy reeked of alcohol but Thursday knew this wasn’t what caused Morse's haziness. "What the bloody hell have you taken?" He pulls Morse to a sitting position before shoving his fingers into the man’s throat before he convulses, bringing up the contents of his stomach, which, from what Fred can gather, is all alcohol. "Shit." Fred mutters. He needs to get Morse out of here.</p><p>Fred didn’t know much about drugs, bar his time in Africa, but he knew Morse needed help and fast.</p><p>As if on cue Morse’s eyes flutter closed and he ungracefully slumps into Fred’s arms.</p><p>Fred curses, putting two fingers to the boys neck, he'd never felt such a rapid pace. Morse felt clammy to touch, precipitation forming in his forehead.</p><p>He wastes no time getting the unconscious detective into the Jag, scooping him up from under his knees and back. Morse head lolled from side to side as Thursday walked as fast as he could to the car.</p><p>He gently placed him in the passenger seat before climbing in and putting the keys in the ignition. He instantly dialled a number, and pulled car out the drive, listening to the calm ringing of the phone.</p><p>He couldn’t risk taking the boy to hospital, an officer overdosing on illegal drugs would see his badge taken off him. It’d take away the one thing he hoped Morse strived to reclaim.</p><p>"Yes?" The man wearily responds down the phone.</p><p>"DeBryn, it’s Thursday. I’ve got Morse with me, looks like he’s overdosed himself on something, I can’t take him to the hospital, can you come to my house?" Fred glances another look at his unresponsive DC, seeing his chest rise and fall unevenly.</p><p>"Sounds like I don’t have a choice in the matter, l can be there in 15 minutes." The doctor responds before putting the phone down. Fred presses his foot further onto the pedal.</p><p>It didn’t take long before Fred was graced with the beautiful sight of home but to him it felt like hours. Trying - begging - Morse to wake up, took it out of him. He had to stop the car on two separate occasions just to check the lad was still breathing.  </p><p>He slams the breaks, rushing to the passenger side, instantly throwing the boy over his shoulder, noting the heat radiating off him.</p><p>The door opens, revealing the doctor and his distressed looking wife. No doubt the doctor had shared the brief information Fred had given him over the phone.</p><p>"We've set the spare room" Win states watching Fred approach the house.</p><p>Thursday carries him up the stairs with DeBryn in tow, promptly setting him down on the single guest bed.</p><p>"You have no idea what he’s taken?" DeBryn asks sternly, shining a penlight into Morse’s dilated pupils.</p><p>"No, I just found him like this." Fred replies simply, stepping back to give DeBryn space.</p><p>The pathologist tugs off Morse’s tie and blazer, throwing them haphazardly in a pile.</p><p>Dammit Morse didn’t have time for this, DeBryn thought before tearing the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off him, leaving Morse in his vest.</p><p>He lies him back down, running hands down Morse’s freckled arms.</p><p>"No puncture marks, so it’s not heroine" the doctor declared. "My guess is cocaine. I’d have been able to tell you for certain if he hadn’t broken his nose." He says, fumbling in his med kit for some antioxidants.</p><p>"Will he be okay?" Fred asks, concern lacing his words. Why would Morse do this? He was always so against anything like this. Hell, he didn’t even drink before meeting Thursday. The thought made Thursday heavy with guilt. He couldn’t help but take responsible for Morse’s downward spiral to his dependence on whiskey to drown out the internal pain he keeps so well hidden.</p><p>"I don’t know. Get me some cold flannels we need to get his temperature down." DeBryn says fearfully, holding a hand to endeavours forehead.  Unlike Thursday, DeBryn knew all too well what a concoction of drugs and alcohol can do to a mans system.</p><p>He hears Win behind him rushing to the cupboards and the muffled sound of his children wondering what all the commotion was for.</p><p>As if it could get any worse Morse starts convulsing below them. Rigid as he shakes, eyes slit open slightly. "Shit!" Escapes DeBryn.</p><p>It occurred to Fred he'd never heard Max swear before, which definitely couldn’t be a good sign.</p><p>"Get back!" DeBryn orders, immediately letting go of him hold on Morse.</p><p>"What’s happening?" Fred asks frantically watching the young detective shudder uncontrollably. Blood still covered the bottom half of his face from his broken nose, adding to the horrific scene before them.</p><p>"His heart rates too high, he’s having a seizure." Max says, “there’s nothing we can do, he just needs to ride it out.”</p><p>Fred couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrid scene in front of him. The tremors took control of his entire frame, thrashing out uncontrollably. Fred couldn’t breathe, feeling a lump rising in his throat.</p><p>Win makes a slight shrieking noise behind as she returns with the flannels, seeing the poor boy shaking violently.</p><p>She quickly hands a wet flannel to DeBryn and leaves abruptly. She couldn’t watch.</p><p>Win closed the door behind her gently. "Kids go to your rooms, okay? Your father doesn’t need you making a fuss.” Win says strongly to Joan and Sam stood aimlessly on the landing. she couldn’t let them see through her, let them guess that something was <em>very </em>wrong.  </p><p>"Mum what on earth is going on? Is dad okay?" Joan questions inching forward.</p><p>"Your dads fine they just need some space. Please just go to your room." Win instructs.</p><p>"But”</p><p>"Now!" Interrupts Win, before Joan can demand more information.</p><p>Unwillingly, Sam and Joan returned to their rooms.</p><p>Win rubbed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She needed to keep it together, needed to be strong for Fred.</p><p>She went back in to find the seizure had stopped, leaving Morse in a bundle of unresponsive limbs.</p><p>DeBryn wasted no time hopping back to his feet and checked him pulse. “Mrs Thursday, would you be so kind to replace the flannel?” He didn’t really need a new one, but he could sense Wins fear and that certainly wasn’t helping the situation.</p><p>Win obliged and quickly took the warm flannel from Dr DeBryn.</p><p>Thursday felt froze to his spot. That was one of the worst things he’d ever seen, and he'd been in the bloody war. It couldn't have been worse if it were Sam or Joan in his place. It felt like he almost lost a child.</p><p>"Heart rates coming down." DeBryn explains, shining a light into Morse’s eyes again. The boy didn’t stir.</p><p>"What- why did that just-" Fred couldn’t form the words.</p><p>DeBryn sighed. "He’s obviously had an awful lot of alcohol in his system. That mixed with the drugs is enough to finish a man off. It’s a wonder his body hasn’t shut down completely." He knew it wasn’t what Thursday wanted to hear, but it was the truth.</p><p> Max takes his handkerchief from his pocked and tries to wipe away the blood from Morse’s face that had mostly dried, studying his relaxed boyish features. In his sleeping – unconscious – state he looked so young. Morse’s almost constant frown was relaxed, his hair untamed stuck out at all angles, wet from the cool flannel. It was strange to see him look so still and peaceful.</p><p>"Why would he do this, Max?" Fred sounded deflated searching for answers he knew DeBryn didn’t have.</p><p>"I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. Lord knows, the poor chap hasn’t had it easy lately. Or ever, to be quite frank." He sighs sympathetically at Morse’s unmoving figure. There was something comforting in the steady rise and fall of Morse’s chest as he slept.</p><p>"Did you ever visit him in..."</p><p>DeBryn pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "no I'm afraid not. I began writing a letter a few times, but I felt a loss at what to say. He wouldn’t have wanted empty apologetic words."</p><p>Thursday nods understandingly. "If only id have spoken to the lad nicer, talked some sense into him. It could have avoided all of this."</p><p>“’If’ holds no weight, inspector, but you can’t blame yourself, old chap."</p><p>Morse begins trembling again, luckily much less intensely than last time. Thursday looks to DeBryn, eyes clouded with fear. He couldn’t watch Morse fit again. Couldn’t bear the thought of being so helpless again.</p><p>"It’s just his body’s way of trying to flush out the toxins, not another seizure." DeBryn says reassuringly. “I believe he’s over the worst of it.”</p><p>Thursday bows his head, loosely taking Morse’s hand in his own. He could only pray that Morse coming this close to dying from an overdose wasn’t intentional. If it were, Fred wouldn't ever forgive himself. The guilt and shame for abandoning the lad to deal with everything on his own would eat him alive.</p><p>Why hadn’t he just dragged him back to oxford when he confronted him the other night? He’d been so stubborn with him; he could see Morse was hurting. But he’d hurt Fred was the truth of it. He viewed Morse like a son, to have him just disappear without a word hurt him more than the bullet lodged in his chest ever would.</p><p>Fred realised now how selfish that had been, he hadn’t truly thought about what Morse must have gone through. And look where that left him. Feeling so alone he turned to dosing himself up on god knows what to push the pain away.</p><p>He felt tears prick in his eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>DeBryn stays another hour or so, monitoring Morse closely. After a while Morse tremors stopped, and he looked to be sleeping naturally. If only that were the case.</p><p>Win would come in now and then, replacing the cloth on Morse’s forehead, his temperature almost down to normal levels.</p><p>"There’s not much more I can do, I’m afraid. We'll just have to wait for him to wake up to see any damage."</p><p>"Damage?" Thursday caught his breath. He hadn’t even thought of it.</p><p>“overdosing has certain effects on the brain, especially after a seizure. Often a person stops breathing at points during a seizure. The lack of oxygen to the brain could cause neurological problems.” DeBryn says in a matter of fact tone. He looked to Thursday; whose eyes were fixed on Morse.</p><p>"Every case varies, but we got to him early so I’d hope there's only a slim chance." DeBryn continues, "the only risk now is him choking on his vomit whilst he sleeps. Whatever you do, make sure he stays in the recovery position."</p><p>DeBryn takes his leave a few moments later, telling Thursday to call him if anything changes.</p><p>It left Fred in a pit of self-hatred and guilt. He hated that he couldn’t see how badly Morse was coping. He hated himself for letting it get to this.</p><p>Win slips in after showing the doctor out. "Oh Fred." She lets out a sigh, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Fred coughs out a tear, shaking his head.</p><p>"What happened, Fred? I thought you were on a case?" Win questioned, perching carefully at the end of the bed, opposite from where her husband sat on the desk chair.</p><p>"I was. I was just going to find this bloody Bixby fellow, then -" Fred shakes his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. " Morse was at the party, he'd taken something and when I found him, he was completely out of it." Fred doesn’t take his eyes off the prone lad.</p><p>"God forgive me, this is all my fault."</p><p>"Fred, don’t say such things. This wasn’t your doing. You saved him." Win says firmly.</p><p>"I shouldn’t have left him there, Win. I could see how much he was hurting. Instead I just taunted him to get him to come back. You’d scold me if you knew the things I said." Fred couldn’t hold in the tears that stung the back of his eyes, letting them freely roll down his face.</p><p>“Oh there, there Fred, we’ll fix him up don’t you worry.” She says softly, wiping his wet cheeks. “Give it a day or two and a belly of food and he’ll be good as new.”</p><p>“That he will love.” He replies hopefully, watching Win brush Morse’s unruly curls away from his forehead.</p><p>Morse stirs slightly at the contact.</p><p>“Shh.” Win soothes, stroking his cheek gently, settling the boy. “We’ll do right by him Fred.” She murmurs, taking her husbands hand.</p><p>The pair continued to watch over Morse, in silent comfort of their hands entwined.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>another chapter done!! let me know what you think :))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Flaws</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thursday and Morse have a much needed talk</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(brief mention of suicide in this chap)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fred called in the station at 8am to inform them he wouldn't be coming in today.</p>
<p>Morse still hadn’t woken. In a state of panic, he called DeBryn.</p>
<p>"Inspector, I’d be surprised if he wakes today at all. He’s been through a lot." The doctor explains tiredly. After returning home just before 3am, being woken up again was definitely against his best interest. Still, he couldn’t help feeling concerned.</p>
<p>Fred stayed with him all day, smoking his pipe peacefully as he read another one of Frazil’s colourfully worded columns in the local newspaper.</p>
<p>Win had brought his dinner up on a tray just after 6pm. Asking if there’d been any change, but Fred only shook his head, setting down his newspaper to take the tray off her. In truth, he had very little appetite after everything that had transpired in the last 24 hours.</p>
<p>It was almost 7pm when Morse begins to stir.</p>
<p>Fred immediately leans forward from his chair, "Morse?"</p>
<p>A moan escaped Morse as he rolled onto his back, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adapt to the light in the room.</p>
<p>"Morse?"</p>
<p>The boy frowns, trying to focus on his surroundings, he hadn’t acknowledged Thursdays presence at all, staring at the ceiling.</p>
<p>"Morse, can you hear me?"</p>
<p>Morse turns slowly, swallowing, "Sir?" he rasped out.</p>
<p>Thursday let out a breath he’d held subconsciously, anticipating Morse’s response. “You’re alright, lad, you’re in my house. Have been for a while now.”</p>
<p>Morse frowns again. Thursday could tell he was trying to piece everything together. Trying, being the apt term. “What happened?” he croaked.</p>
<p>Thursday couldn’t help but laugh, “I was hoping you could tell me that.”</p>
<p>Morse tried to push himself up, but his ribs protested, eliciting a painful hiss, falling back down. Even without the bruising, Morse felt too weak to have succeeded in sitting up anyways.</p>
<p>“None of that, Morse. You’ve probably got some bruised ribs. Should probably have got DeBryn to give them a once over before he left” He grumbled.</p>
<p>“DeBryn?” Morse’s voice felt, and sounded, like sandpaper.</p>
<p>“Here, try and have some of this if you feel up to it. It’s just water.”  Thursday picked up a glass from the desk and gently pressed it to Morse’s lips. He only let him have a small amount, fearing it would unsettle his empty stomach.</p>
<p>“Yes, I had to call DeBryn here after I found you” Thursday answered, reluctant to say any more. Didn’t want to tell him that he put the fear of god in him, finding Morse drugged to the gills on god knows what. Didn’t want to tell him watching him fit hysterically would haunt his nightmares for longer than he cared to think about.</p>
<p>He expected more questions, but Morse simply nodded, resting his head against the feather pillow. He looked exhausted after being awake only a few minutes.</p>
<p>“Get some rest lad.” He said gently, rising form the chair for the first time in hours. “If you need anything just shout, Ill only be in the other room.”</p>
<p>Morse was out like a light before he even reached the door.</p>
<p>He watched the rise and fall of Morse’s chest for a moment, letting the relief run through him. He was so afraid he’d wake in a panic or worse. He had no idea what to expect, he was just grateful Morse knew who he was, that he could talk.</p>
<p>He closed the door softly behind him, finding Win on the landing. “I heard talking.” Her words were filled with hope.</p>
<p>He smiled, “Yes, love. He woke up. Only for a few minutes, mind.” He said, before Win moves to him, wrapping him into a tight hug.</p>
<p>“That’s wonderful news.” Win whispered into his shoulder. “The kids have gone to the fair with friends.” She adds softly, before Fred could ask why the house was so quiet.</p>
<p>“That’s good.” He smiled. “He’s gone back to sleep; thought I’d call Dr DeBryn.”</p>
<p>Win nods, watching Fred make his way downstairs. Nothing could wipe the smile off her face.</p>
<p>“Yes?” Came a weary sounding voice. Thursday felt a flash of déjà vu.</p>
<p>“Dr DeBryn, its Thursday. He woke up.” It still felt surreal after all the hours he’d spent picturing worse case scenarios.</p>
<p>“Did he now? Was he lucid?” DeBryn asked in his usual quizzical tone.</p>
<p>“Yes, we spoke, but I don’t think he could remember what happened.”</p>
<p>“I’d be extremely surprised if he ever does remember, Inspector. The alcohol alone would have been enough to erase his memories from last night.” DeBryn pointed out.</p>
<p>Thursday nodded, silently agreeing. “Is there anything I should do? Should I be trying to keep him awake?”</p>
<p>“’When sleep puts an end to delirium, it is a good symptom.’ No Inspector, rest is the best thing for him.”</p>
<p>Fred shakes his head at the pathologist’s ability to pluck quotes out of thin air. “Okay. Thanks, doctor. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” He put the phone down and made his way into the den where Win was waiting patiently.</p>
<p>“What did he say?” Win asked.</p>
<p>“Said he should get some rest is all. Sleeps the best thing for him, apparently.”</p>
<p>“Well, we’ll make sure he gets plenty of that.” She stated confidently. The boy didn’t stand a chance against his Win.</p>
<p>She paused for a moment, “did he tell you what happened? When he woke up?”</p>
<p>Fred sighed. “No, could hardly remember a thing. I’m just relieved he could recognise me.”</p>
<p>“Of course, he’d recognise you, Fred. You know how highly he thinks of you.”</p>
<p>“Can’t imagine he does now. Not after the last few month.” Fred said grimly.</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly, Fred. You know he doesn’t blame you for what happened.”</p>
<p>Fred was quiet for a few moments. “He stood by me Win, every time I needed him, he was right there by my side.” He said slowly, “Vince Kasper, that damned night at Blenheim Vale.” Win noticeably flinched at that. The scars were still too fresh.</p>
<p>“The moment he needed me the most I blow him off like ash in the wind. So no, I can’t imagine will ever think highly of me again, if this is how I repay him for saving my life.” He snapped, letting his emotions get the better of him.</p>
<p>They both sat in silence. Win knew nothing she could say would make him think differently, only Morse would be able to talk sense into him.</p>
<p>“I’m not turning my back on him ever again. Even if he doesn’t want my help.” He choked out silently.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Morse had never felt so shit in his life. Every inch of his body hurt. His ribs protested at the slightest movement and he could hardly breathe from his nose, tasting the remnants of copper.</p>
<p>Then he remembered. Prison. He’d been woken again in the early hours by a key in the door, the shuffling of feet, before something hard connecting with his face.</p>
<p>He felt a hand on his shoulder. No, he won’t let them get away with it again.</p>
<p>His eyes flash open, striking out at the attacker. He wasn’t sure if was an inmate or a guard, it became hard to distinguish the difference.</p>
<p>But no blow came.</p>
<p>Morse stilled, confused. What kind of fight was this if the person wasn’t even trying to hit him? He frowns, smelling a familiar scent of smoke. Not just cigarette, a pipe. A familiar comforting scent that somewhere along the line he associated safety.</p>
<p>It was then he noticed the warm wallpaper and the sturdy wardrobe by the foot of the bed. Not prison, he corrected.</p>
<p>“Morse?”</p>
<p>He turned to find Thursday looking like a deer in headlights. Why was his lip bleeding?</p>
<p>“Sir?”</p>
<p>Thursday huffed, “You’re alright lad, you’re safe.”</p>
<p>“What? Why am I - did I do that?” Morse asked, sounding horrified.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing, Morse. My own fault for scaring you.” He said, not wanting to make a fuss about him waking up petrified and fighting. He quickly wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.</p>
<p>“What do you remember?” Thursday asked, taking a different approach.</p>
<p>Morse was quiet for a few minutes. “I – I don’t know. I remember getting out. Staying at the boat house. There’s a girl? Found in the woods?”</p>
<p>Thursday could help smile slightly. Of course, the case would be what he remembered first. “That’s right.”</p>
<p>“The fair, Strange found the girls bag.” He thought out loud, “there was a party, at Bixby’s. I – I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Sir.” Trying to think wasn't doing anything for his pounding headache. </p>
<p>Thursday internally cursed at how sincere he sounded. “It’s fine, lad.”</p>
<p>“How did I get here?”</p>
<p>“I found you outside Bixby’s. You’d clearly managed to piss someone off, even in the state you were in.” He said, watching how Morse took the information, hoping it might bring some memories back.</p>
<p>“You’d taken something. A lot of something.” He continued, quietly.</p>
<p>Morse dropped his head. “Yes.” He wheezed out.</p>
<p>“Why, Morse?”</p>
<p>Morse tried to think of a way to word it that wouldn’t hurt Thursday, but he couldn’t. “To forget.”</p>
<p>Thursday didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“The inmates had a game,” Morse started, tiredly, “How long can the bastard copper last without needing a surgeon.” They tried so often it was almost part of Morse’s nightly routine, but often the guards would step in before it got out of hand.</p>
<p>Fred looked at him, horrified.</p>
<p>He instantly regretted telling him that. Morse wanted to save himself the guilty looks, but he knew he couldn’t just shrug off what had happened. He needed Thursday to understand.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to forget.” He repeated, brokenly.</p>
<p>“You could have said something, Morse. I’d have helped you best I could.”</p>
<p>“Could I?” Morse spat back, “I thought you made it clear you didn’t have the time for me if I wasn’t returning to Oxford.” He said agitatedly, voice rising.</p>
<p>“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. Yes, I wanted you to come back, but that doesn’t mean I’d stop caring.” Thursday cuts in. “Did you mean to?”</p>
<p>“Mean to what?” Morse asked like a challenge.</p>
<p>“Mean to take so much you almost killed yourself!”</p>
<p>Morse’s eyes shot up. There, that got his attention.</p>
<p>“You had so much in your system you had a seizure. If I hadn’t found you, you’d likely be dead on Bixby’s front porch.” Fred snapped in the heat of the moment.</p>
<p>“What do you want, a thank you? Is that what this is about, redemption?”</p>
<p>Fred fell back into his seat, defeated. God, he was going about it all wrong. “No. I’m sorry, Morse. That isn’t what I want or expect. I’m sorry, I don’t want to fight with you, lad.”</p>
<p>They sat silently for a moment, letting the tension ease away.</p>
<p>“No.” Morse said quietly, “I didn’t mean to.”</p>
<p>Fred breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” God knows what he’d have done if Morse had intentionally tried to end his life. The thought alone tore him apart.</p>
<p>“I thought about it, though. Not drugs specifically, but…”</p>
<p>Hearing that felt like a punch in the gut. He could hardly get air into his lungs.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. That was the worst of it. Worse than the sleepless nights or the beatings. I was fairly certain you were dead since no one had written. Presumed they’d want to spare me the bad news.”</p>
<p>“I thought my stupidity had gotten you killed. My idleness making Mrs Thursday a widow. I couldn’t live with it. That’s why I had to leave.”</p>
<p>“Seeing you again just brought back everything I tried so hard to forget.”</p>
<p>Fred looked to the broken young man in front of him and without another thought he moved onto the bed and pulled Morse tightly into a hug.</p>
<p>Morse melted into it; it had been so long since he’d been given any affection. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but all his walls seemed to come tumbling down and he let himself cry into Thursday’s shoulder, letting all the pain from the past 2 months run out of him.</p>
<p>“There, there. You’re alright” Thursday murmurs after a few moments, rubbing a soothing hand on Morse’s back.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I let it get to this, lad. I should have found you earlier, should have thrown you in that Jag and took you home once I did.”</p>
<p>Morse huffed a laugh and pulled away.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for letting you down. Truly, I am.” Thursday said sincerely, holding the boy at arm’s length.</p>
<p>“You did no such thing, Sir. You couldn’t have known.”</p>
<p>“I’m your guvnor, it’s my job to know. Just hope you can forgive an old codger like me who has a talent for making a complete hash of things.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to forgive.” Morse says flashing a quick smile.</p>
<p>“Right, then, you hungry? Wins cooking breakfast.” he said, rising off the bed.</p>
<p>Morse smiled and nodded, “Sir?” he says, making Thursday stop by the door. “Thank you. For helping me.”</p>
<p>Fred smiled. “That’s what you do for family, Morse, you look out for each other. Always will.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading my second ever fic!! Hope you enjoyed :))</p></blockquote></div></div>
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